


Moving In Limbo

by louisnoel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AND DRAMA, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Drama, Gen, Ghosts, and tears, but it's mainly friendship, pure friendship, there is a slight mystery plot to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisnoel/pseuds/louisnoel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi moves away far from home for work. Little does he know that the cheap house he buys is already inhabited by a ghost, who can't find a way to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving In Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to my beta tumblr user jhey0aira without whom the ending would have been an unsatisfactory mess!

The last thing Daichi Sawamura wanted to do was move. Again. For his job. It was all the more ironic because while he used to not exactly be proud of having grown up in the country side, he loved life in rural areas. It was quiet at night. The air didn’t smell of car exhaust (albeit of cow exhaust in some places). You could reasonably afford a big plot of land. Hell, you could keep a goddamned donkey as a pet if you felt like it.

So when he had to move to study at a university, he didn’t choose the most prestigious one, but the one closest to home. This way, he could easily escape the busy city nightlife and visit on weekends or during holiday season if he didn’t have to work. Nothing ever beat home.

And of course, going into business management had already promised him a future far away from his childhood home. In a twist of fate, he _had_ found a job at a local supermarket chain but in order to rise to a higher position, he had to move. And headquarters were—where else?—located at the other end of the country. The thought alone painted a grim parody of a smile on Daichi’s face.

Dry-washing his face, he tried to come up with good points about moving and this new city in general. He would finally be able to live on his own, without nagging parents or roommates. He could perhaps go back to using a bike or public transport instead of the car. That should save money, on top of the sweet raise he’d get anyway. Also, he might meet many new faces. It was hard to come by new people in a hillbilly village young people escaped from en masse. He was just another John Doe moving away. And anyway, Daichi never backed from a challenge. He wasn’t fazed easily.

Perhaps he should start seeing the move as a chance at a new—or at least different—life. It wasn’t like he couldn’t come back.

* * *

Finding a new place to live turned out to be incredibly easy. Daichi had supposed that living space in cities would be sparse, cramped, and expensive. He had already made peace with the fact he’d have to live in a tiny apartment in a ratty looking complex, at least on the 10th floor, in the suburbs. So the realtor he’d contacted showing him through a whole _house_ in what seemed to be a quiet and lazy neighbourhood (“Just like home!” Daichi thought with glee) came as a surprise. The price came as a shock.

“I think you’re missing a zero or two,” Daichi said when the realtor showed him what he would have to pay.

The woman shook her head. “A couple years ago, yes, but nobody wants the house anymore.”

“Why’s that? I mean, the neighbourhood seems good, the house itself looks great and comes with _free_ furniture, and there’s even a backyard.” Daichi crossed his arms.

The realtor sighed. “I don’t know how much I’m supposed to tell you. I don’t even know if we’re happy to sell the house or not.” Daichi arched an eyebrow. “Well, we’ve been having problems with the past owners. One even went to court.”

“That unhappy?” Daichi cocked his head. “They lost the case, didn’t they?”

The woman nodded. “Yes.” She frowned and hesitated for a moment, then went on. “The children were frightened. They couldn’t sleep, and so they weren’t able to go to school anymore and then the mother fell ill, too. They blamed it on some sort of poltergeist haunting the house.” Daichi smirked. Who still believed in ghosts? “Inspectors and experts have since examined the house. They could find no anomalies in electromagnetic fields or radio signals, for example. Only the master bedroom was a little cooler, perhaps three to four degrees, but that was all they could find, and the court ruled that it was not enough to demand for compensation.”

“I’m by no means an expert, but if you ask me, the whole case sounds fishy. Who goes to court saying they’re haunted by a ghost?”

The woman hesitated again before nodding. “This hasn’t been the only account of this house being haunted, though.”

“Ah, I see.” So this was why she was torn whether her agency wanted to get rid of the house or not. Because they weren’t looking forward to more—however unfounded—accusations. It shone a bad light on them. On the other hand, selling the house was a priority. Either way, this particular realtor’s job was in danger. The fact that she was providing him with all the info despite this impeding fear filled Daichi with a warm fuzziness. He had already made a decision either way. “I’m still going to buy the house. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

“What about the poltergeist?”

Daichi smirked again. “I, quite frankly, don’t believe in ghosts.”

She didn’t try to talk him out of it again and seemed happy enough to have found a new buyer for the estate.

* * *

Daichi had moved a week before starting his new job and spent most of his time indoors to unpack his things. Now, five days later, he was finally able to get to know the city itself. After carrying his old bike he brought with him up from the basement, he made his way downtown to explore.

He found out the following things: This city housed, among different attractions, a zoo, an amusement park and a zoo-amusement park hybrid. If you went west from his house and took no turns, you passed four McDonalds in about five kilometres. In the heart of the city was a movie theatre in the style of the early 40s. Two blocks from home was a nice corner store where he could do his groceries. The park was infested with dogs that needed to be taught proper toilet manners. A gym across a vegan sushi house (what?!) was open for applications. He needed about twenty minutes tops to work by bike if he took it across a schoolyard.

He returned home tired and groggy, hopped under the shower and decided that this was the last day he’d eat out. It was starting to become expensive, and it was stupid if you were doing it by yourself anyway.

 

As he was doing his groceries for the second time, Daichi reviewed his past few days. He had looked in every corner, nook and niche he could discover in his new home. There weren’t any ghosts, spirits, spectres, phantoms, animi, poltergeists nor ghostly presences or apparitions to be found anywhere. Not in the backyard, not in the basement, not in the attic and certainly not in his bed. _That_ would have been a little creepy. In the creeper kind of way. Because Daichi wasn’t fazed easily. And he had just wanted to make sure.

Grabbing canned beer, Daichi tried to recall anything about the furniture. He didn’t bring most of it himself after all, and perhaps there might have been some lingering… sense of self from another plane. But he drew a blank. The TV never turned on by itself. No doors opened or shut all of a sudden, much less creaked. No light flickered, not even the one in the fridge. Hell, he slept like a babe. Everything was all right and he was so not going to overthink this. After all, ghosts were a thing of fiction.

Daichi paid for his things and went home, ready to relax to that movie he wanted to watch.

 

Heaving a heavy sigh, Daichi steered his butt into the couch. He’d looked up the TV programme beforehand so he just had to zap through the channels until he found the right one. Settling into a comfortable position and pulling a blanket over himself against the room’s chilliness, Daichi reached for his bag of potato chips, ripped it open and let sweet apathy to everything wash over him.

At least, that had been the plan.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, a voice from next to Daichi said, “You know, I actually went to see this one in the cinema. Way back when.” Daichi was glad he had made a habit of using the toilet before getting comfortable watching TV because he’d would have pissed his pants otherwise. Out of nowhere, a guy around his age—mid-twenty-ish—had seemingly appeared and was now sitting next to him. He had light hair and wore clothes almost the same shade. “Well, it’s been a couple of years now, so I guess you’re aware of at least the big plot points by now. Spoiling you won’t hurt.” Daichi opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , and failed miserably if his intent was anything but a poor fish impression. “See this dude?” The man next to Daichi pointed at the screen. His pale arm seemed to glow with a faint white light and Daichi hoped he had had one too many beers and his eyes were playing him like a goddamned violin because no way in hell was he seeing right _through_ the man’s arm. No way in goddamned hell. “He won’t last much longer. Give or take,” the guy made a waving hand motion, “around five more minutes. Closer to four.”

Finally, Daichi found his voice to let out the unmanliest scream of his life as of yet. The other man’s head turned in his direction and fixed him with a gaze full of astonishment. “What,” was all Daichi managed to say.

The other man’s eyebrows drew together and he cocked his head to the right. “You can hear me?”

Taking a deep breath to steel himself against this madness, Daichi used his authoritative team leader voice and said, “You are going to explain yourself this minute and I might just not call the cops on you.”

Snorting, and seemingly having recovered his composure, the man said, “Don’t bother. You’ll just make a fool out of yourself.”

“Yes?” Daichi folded his arms. “And why is that?” He remembered the man’s outburst. “Your voice is going to fail you?”

“No.” The man smirked. “The truth is a little bit uglier.” His expression turned lopsided.

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Please enlighten me.”

“I’m dead. I’m a ghost.”

Now it was Daichi’s turn to snort. He didn’t buy it, _wouldn’t_ buy it. He had _checked_. _Everywhere_. There weren’t any ghosts in this house, or anywhere else for that matter. “You’re shitting me. You’re probably someone living in the neighbourhood and trying to prank me. Make a fool out of me.” He had checked everything twice. This house was just haunted on paper. He could… not exactly prove it, but he knew he had been thorough enough to have spotted such an intrusion.

“Did I stutter?” The man waved his arms in front of Daichi’s eyes. “Look! I’m see-through and I glow in the dark! That’s not normal! Humans don’t do that!”

Daichi swallowed. He had to admit, the strange man’s word _did_ make a certain amount of sense, especially if you weren’t in the dark about this house’s history and reputation. But… “Dude, ghosts don’t exist. This is probably some kinda new spray-paint—”

The man’s eyes widened a little. “How delusional _are_ you, you dimwit?” He leaned towards Daichi who instinctively backed away, but not far enough, seeing as the guy’s arm passed straight through his chest. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Boo.”

 _Now_ Daichi let out the unmanliest scream of his life as of yet.

Then he passed out.

* * *

When Daichi opened his eyes, the ghost man wasn’t gone. No, quite to the contrary, he was hovering over him. Figuratively. He didn’t actually hover or float or stick in some funny angle in the air, just lean over Daichi and was slapping his cheek. It stung.

“Ouch!”

The ghost whistled although it was probably meant to be a sigh. Daichi’s cheek no longer hurt as much and the pain lessened to a persistent dull throb. “You’re finally back! Here I was thinking you might join me because I seemingly scared you to—”

“How many times did you hit me?” He pushed himself up on his elbows and prodded his cheek with his pointer finger. And winced.

“Uh. More than once.” A sheepish grin spread over his face, and he averted his head before resting his eyes on Daichi again. “Anyway, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Koushi Sugawara.”

Daichi opened his mouth, then closed it again. His synapses were being overloaded with information, and only now did he notice the TV merrily blaring on in the background. He fished for the remote and turned it off. Daichi held up a finger to signal he needed a little more time to process.

“What’s your name?”

Daichi wetted his lips and sat up fully. “Daichi.” The ghost cocked his head and made a hand motion for Daichi to go on. “Sawamura. Daichi Sawamura. But ‘Daichi’ is fine.”

“Well, then feel free to call me ‘Suga’.” He grinned.

“All right, Suga.” Daichi reached for his beer. He needed a drink badly now. “May I ask you a few questions?”

Suga shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“I hope this isn’t too personal or interfering with your ghostly business somehow.” Suga inclined his head again but didn’t say anything. “How come you haunt this house of all places?”

“Ah, this one’s easy. I used to live here.” He shrugged again. “This was the last place I called home.”

“And then you just… died?”

Suga nodded. “Apparently.” He crossed his arms and sat back a bit. “I can’t recall anything about it.”

“Uh,” Daichi ticked off his mental list of questions, “how long have you been dead?”

Shrugging once more, Suga leaned back even more to rest on his back. One of his legs dangled from the couch, and he looked so very _alive_ in this moment that it was hard to believe that he could stuck his limbs through you no problem. Well, if he weren’t semi-transparent and pale as a sheet, he’d look alive. “Time became funny once I died. I see people coming and leaving all the time but I don’t know how long they stay. I don’t know which years I lived in so I can’t really check against a calendar or something.” He propped his head on his arms. “And to be honest, I don’t care. I’m kinda stuck in limbo and it’s not like I age or anything.”

“If your sense of time became all messed up, then how did you know—”

“—About the movie?” Daichi nodded. “I guessed. I remember watching it in the cinema, and if it’s on TV then it must be at least a few months old, right?” Suga grinned. “I might be dead but I’m not entirely stupid.”

Daichi’s eyebrows drew together. “Why would you be? Like, what is the connection between, y’know—”

Suga’s giggled. “Zombies?”

“Oh.” Daichi swallowed. He sure hoped _these_ wouldn’t be real if ghosts were… “There isn’t a zombie version of you running around and starting an apocalypse, is there?”

“I don’t think so.” Suga hummed as he mulled the prospect over. “I don’t know what happened to my body but you’d think it would’ve been on the news if the walking dead showed up and ate brains.” Daichi opened his mouth to ask something more, but of course Suga had different plans. “You know this joke about what vegetarian zombies go like?”

Daichi leaned back a little and sorted through this mess in his head. “Uh-uh.” If ghosts were real, then what else? Zombies apparently not. But what about magic? Or other undead creatures, like revenants and ghouls and vampires. …Please no vampires.

“So, like, a normal zombie goes, ‘Brains!’ So of course the vegetarian zombie is demanding, ‘Grains!’” Suga laughed. He sounded genuinely happy, and oh-so innocent. It went well with his glow.

Daichi snorted. What a stupid joke. “I… have a question.”

“I noticed.” Suga kept giggling. “You’ve had a few. What’s keeping you now?”

Daichi took a deep breath. “Don’t take this personally, but pray tell why are you chilling on my couch when you should have gone to heaven or the underworld or wherever souls go when their, uh, host body loses its life?”

“Easy. I can’t.” Suga sat up again. “I don’t know why I died. Until then I can’t find closure and can’t go on.” He blinked. “Probably.” Shrugging, a sheepish grin spread over his features. “This is just another guess. Because I wouldn’t know, really. Haven’t ever met any other ghosts so far.” His voice modulated into something more akin to a mixture between sadness and disappointment. “And ghostiness doesn’t come with a handy hitchhiker’s guide to the graveyard.”

Daichi smiled at the joke. “Well, at least you’re taking it in stride.” He nodded towards Suga. “And you can still talk to living people. It’s not like you’re all alone.”

“Funny you’d say that.”

Daichi’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you’re the first one who actually sees me, hears me, talks to me, hell, _reacts_ to me beyond leaving the house for good.” He grinned. “Okay, the last one’s just me hoping.”

“Huh.” So that’s why he had reacted to Daichi being able to hear him earlier. “Any smart guesses as to why’s that?” Because Suga’s guesses have been smart so far.

Suga knit his brows. “A good question. I’ll have to think about.”

“No gut feeling?”

Suga sighed out his breath. Did he breathe? Why? So he could talk? Habit? Did he _have_ to breathe after all? Daichi should start a notebook about what he’d ask Suga. “Well, in fiction, sometimes the ghost can be seen by either their killer or their true love.” He grinned, but it looked pained this time. “Let’s hope it’s neither. Although the last one would be a funny twist.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The first alternative, too, if you think about it.”

“I had rather not.”

“Why not? It might help me move on if we figure out what’s the problem and how you’re connected to all of it!” He grinned, giggling. So he was back in a good mood. Well, at least he wasn’t mopey about being dead.

“Both these possibilities sound absurd.” Daichi sighed. He didn’t think it funny at all. What if he _had_ murdered this young man—Suga didn’t look he was beyond his early twenties? What then? What if he was supposed to have fallen in love with him? What if both were true? That’d be an interesting take on Romeo and Juliet. And one he didn’t want to be part of if he could help it.

“Well?” Suga asked, arching an eyebrow. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No,” Daichi said, reaching for another beer can, “and I’m still processing this. I might throw you out tomorrow.”

“What?! I thought we were getting to know each other! Becoming… I don’t know, friends!”

“I don’t know anything about you apart from your name and your, uh, state of life. If—no offense—you can even call it that. You know what I mean.” Suga nodded. “And you probably don’t sleep, do you?”

“Uhm… not really, no.”

“Then what do you do at night? Watch _me_ sleep like a creep? Eat everything out of my fridge? Read porn mags?”

Suga rolled his eyes and averted them. “I try being productive. I look for clues so I can figure out my death.”

“Are you?” Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Because you surely would have found something out by now.”

Suga whistle-sighed. “I tried, okay?” He looked back at Daichi and spread his arms. “I found nothing that I could connect to me so I gave up.”

“But a local death should have made it to the evening news.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been thinking, too. So there must have been some lost time between my untimely death and my ghost regaining consciousness.” When Daichi looked confused, Suga elaborated, “What I mean is that I died but I only woke up as a ghost several days, months,—” he threw up his arms, “—maybe even years even later. And because I don’t remember when I lived, I can’t look up anything.”

Daichi frowned. This sounded like a predicament all right. “But you want to move on?”

“Yes.” Suga looked down at (or through, Daichi couldn’t tell) his hands. “I’m afraid staying too long is going to hurt my soul somehow. Like, what if I become a different person because of my prolonged stay? What if the soul and the body shouldn’t be separated like this at all and what you’re experiencing is nothing but an empty echo of myself? What if my existence even hurts people?”

“Wow, wow, calm down!” Daichi raised both his hands. “See, we both seem to be interested in you moving on. So why don’t I help you figure out your death?” When Suga only blinked at him, Daichi pressed, “What do you say?”

“Hm…” Suga crossed his arms. He was still translucent at the place where his arms overlapped. The sight made Daichi swallow. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Daichi had been glad to live on his own for a change. He hadn’t signed up for a technically dead roommate he was still missing a critical piece of information from. “Suga,” he called out, because said ghost man was nowhere to be found. Sometimes he did that—just go invisible and mute and be virtually gone from the world. Except he wasn’t. He couldn’t.

Suga appeared from thin air, sitting at the kitchen table. “Yes?”

“I forgot to ask again yesterday.” Daichi approached him (as if that would keep Suga from disappearing again). “What do you do at night?”

Suga flickered—almost vanished and then decided against it, going back into his glowing ethereality. “I go invisible and hide in the walls. I don’t want to be an intrusion.”

Daichi cocked his head. “‘In the walls’? Do you mean going intangible like you did with your arm the other day?”

Nodding, Suga appeared to swallow. Ah, so that still worked, too. At least visually. “Yes.” He turned his head to look at Daichi. “Where else would I go? I don’t want to leave. This is still kind of my home.”

“No, you lost it when you died. It’s officially _my_ home now. I’m just generous and let you crash here.”

Suga snorted. “Come one, it’s not my fault I lost the ownership or contract or whatever I used to have when I died.” He folded his arms. “Show a little empathy for once.”

Daichi sighed and held up his hands in defense. “All right, all right. I’m taking it back. It was insensitive of me.”

“Oh,” Suga raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, and grinned. “That’s more like it.”

Daichi rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help chuckling.

 

“Up already?” Suga asked, appearing right behind Daichi in the mirror. Daichi jumped and screamed and turned around to give Suga a piece of his mind. Suga grinned at him. “No need to be so jumpy.”

“Don’t do that again! I just got up!”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Suga crossed his arms, “and I was wondering why.”

“Because live people have to make a living somehow, you know.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Suga kept grinning though. “So, what’re working as?”

Daichi turned back to the mirror to fix his sleepy face. “I’m in business management, working for a big supermarket chain.” He washed his face.

“Your first day, huh? I mean,” Suga smiled sheepishly, “you just moved here after all.”

“Yeah. First day.”

“Nervous?”

“A little, yeah. I don’t know anyone there personally and then I’m already promoted to some kinda boss. I don’t know how anyone’ll react to this, or me in general.” After combing his hair, Daichi ran his hands through it to tousle it again.

“Aw, you’ll be doing fine.” Suga took a step towards Daichi and peered into the mirror over his shoulder. “I could come with you so you’re not all alone.”

“Yeah, sure.” Daichi smiled, fixing Suga’s reflection, eyes taking on a hard edge. “Not.”

“What?” Suga pushed out his bottom lip in a pout. “I’m the only one you know! And nobody can see or hear me anyway apart from you, so I won’t interfere. I can give you tips and be helpful!” He went for a smile.

Daichi snorted and turned around. “Even if I wanted you to come, which I do not, I wouldn’t be able to bring you with me because I’m going to take the bike.”

Suga took a step away from him and the mirror to cross his arms. “I’ll be a good boy. I promise.” He smiled shyly.

Again, Daichi snorted. “Give up already.”

Sighing, Suga lowered his head. “All right.” Then, he vanished.

 

Daichi so should have seen it coming. He had introduced himself to his new colleagues and his boss and was taking part in the first team meeting when he spotted the familiar glow in one of the previously unoccupied seats. Suga grinned and waved at him with way too much enthusiasm. Daichi’s hand twitched, ready for a facepalm, when he remembered his setting.

As soon as he could, Daichi said he needed a toilet break and excused himself after fixing Suga with an expression that told him to come with him if he valued his existence. The door to the men’s rooms had just shut behind Daichi when he turned to Suga who was casually walking through the door. Daichi hissed, “I told you to stay at home. What are you _doing_ here?”

“It’s a funny story, really,” Suga said, averting his eyes, a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Daichi wanted to interrupt him, but what if someone who was not Suga had followed him too and now overheard him talking to himself? Way to make a fool out of yourself on your first day on your new job. “You see, I haven’t been able to talk to anyone, much less hold an actual conversation. You’d think I would have got used to the loneliness, but,” Suga shrugged and looked back at Daichi, “I’ve been starving from lack of socialising. I just realised this. So I followed you.”

Daichi rolled his eyes. “I’m gone for maybe nine to ten hours, depending on if I’m also doing groceries or not, and you’re telling me you’re incapable of waiting less than half your day?” He put a hand to his forehead in a vain attempt to keep his headache at bay.

Suga dropped his head. “Sorry. I’ll go home.”

“Please.” When Suga’s eyes kept fixing the floor, Daichi added, “I’ll be there soon enough.” Suga looked back up, flashing a weak smile, then vanished.

 

“Let’s watch another movie,” Suga announced as Daichi nuked a pizza that was supposed to go into the oven. Daichi opened his mouth to say something, but Suga was already making his way through the walls towards the TV, which he then turned on. The microwave beeped and Daichi took his slightly too hot pizza out.

Suga was already propped on the couch when Daichi entered the human way. “You leave me no choice.” Suga half-turned to flash a happy grin at Daichi. “By the way,” Daichi sat down next to Suga and set his pizza plate onto the table in front of them, “did you know that you’re making the temperature drop?”

Suga shook his head lightly, fine strands of hair not quite whipping around his head. “No. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. You’re not doing it on purpose.” Daichi inched a little closer to Suga, but not enough to have his warmth sucked out of him.

Suga raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading over his features. His commentary during the movie lightened Daichi’s mood considerably. He didn’t even remember being irritated at Suga only hours before.

 

It didn’t take Daichi long to get used to Suga’s presence. It was still a little awkward to see him appear from thin air or walk through walls like in a glitched video game, but his commentary made up for this. And it would be just a matter of time before Daichi didn’t have a minor freakout anymore every time Suga stuck his head through the wall to talk to him.

And Suga? He seemed happy, at least from Daichi’s perspective. He knew it was mainly due to his ability to see and hear him, and he made it a point not to question this particular skill. Because ignorance was bliss.

So when Suga—after weeks of biding his time—appeared during his break at work, Daichi was glad he had someone to talk to, someone who had probably seen him naked (you never knew), and by extension someone you didn’t and couldn’t hide anything from even if you tried.

“I brought you a sandwich.” Suga held up two pieces of bread squishing a single lettuce leaf. “It’s not good but made with care.”

Daichi lightly shook his head. After making sure no one would see him, he approached Suga. “Thank you.” Suga handed him the sandwich. Daichi wondered what non-mediums would see. Daichi summoning a sandwich from thin air like a sorcerer? A sandwich floating the whole way from his home to work? “It’s very…” he turned it around and contemplated its plainness, “cold. From the touch, I mean.”

“Yeah, I seem to be doing that. Sucking out warmth.”

“From a sandwich, too?”

Suga shrugged, grinning. “Perhaps my body is waiting in a morgue and the coldness is transmitted to me.”

“Your sense of humour is so morbid at times.”

Daichi shook his head when Suga chuckled sadistically. “You gotta stay young and fresh somehow, don’t you!”

“Says the ghost.” Daichi couldn’t keep from grinning.

“Says the ghost.” Suga’s features relaxed into a pleasant smile. “Now, go eat up before your break ends.”

“What are you, my mum?”

Suga’s grin, before he vanished, said it all.

 

Sometimes there was music playing in the background when you went shopping, especially in a clothes store. Daichi was used to the songs making him leave the store as soon as possible after completing his purchase but this time was different. Because Suga kept singing along. And—as much as Daichi didn’t want to admit it—his voice sounded nice. It wasn’t a piece of art, but more like a diamond in the rough. If you polished it, it would shine.

The problem was this: If he wanted Suga to shut up, he couldn’t tell him amidst all these people bustling through the store. Thankfully, after Daichi had selected a new pair of shorts and a fitting t-shirt, Suga kept following him into the fitting room where they would have a little more privacy.

“What are you doing here? It’s not like you ever change your,” Daichi gestured, “ghostly attire.” Suga was always sporting the same things: a translucent long-sleeved shirt and a pair translucent jeans. They went well with his translucent converse.

Suga clapped his hand against his chest with pride. The action didn’t make a sound. “Keeping you company. And perhaps being a fashion advisor.”

Daichi rolled his eyes. “I’m 25. I know how fashion works.” He looked down at the shorts and the t-shirt he held, then back up at Suga. “Well, at least I know that black and white go with almost anything.” He put the clothes on the bench so he could cross his arms. “Do you want to watch me strip or what?”

Suga shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked already.” He grinned sheepishly. “By accident.”

“What?!”

“You have really good thighs.”

Daichi opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. No sound would come out.

“Just sayin’.” When Daichi kept his gave up speaking and opted for glaring instead, Suga held up his hands. “Hey! I meant it as a compliment!”

“Yeah?” Daichi arched an eyebrow. “You sound like a voyeur. A fetishist. A fetishist voyeur.” He frowned—it was wird no matter how he arranged the two words in his head. “Anyway, it creeps me out. I never want you to look at me again when I’m naked.”

“I told you it was an accident!” Suga shut his eyes and half-vanished.

“Well, then you should’ve either brought it up sooner, or not have brought it up at all. And decidedly _not_ by saying you think my thighs are ‘good’.”

“But they are!” Before Daichi could say anything because he so didn’t want to have this conversation, Suga opened his eyes and solidified again (at least optically). “Just take it as a compliment and let this embarrassing moment of my afterlife be over with.”

Daichi sighed. “Promise me to never do this again and we’re good.” When Suga nodded, Daichi took off his current t-shirt to try on the new one.

“Did you know you have good abs?”

When Daichi turned to finish off Suga for good with his look, the ghost was gone.

 

The TV went out by itself.

“What the hell?” Daichi complained, getting up to give the electricity company a piece or two of his mind. What were they thinking, having a stupid blackout just when the Terminator crashed into the police station with his car? The scene had been funny and now Daichi was left with no conclusion to Sarah Conner’s survival, his laughter dying in his throat. He was still seeing after-images in the dark.

Or was he? Because the real perpetrator did illuminate his surroundings.

“Suga.” It came out as a growl.

Flicking the light switch on, Suga grinned at him. “It’s nice to see you, too, Daichi!”

“Why did you turn off the movie?”

Suga rolled his eyes. “The chick lives. She bangs the dude from the future. He dies. Oh, and the robot dies, too.”

“Way to ruin the evening.”

Suga shrugged Daichi’s scowl away. He rushed back to the table between the TV and the couch, cleared it of old trash and placed an empty plastic bottle on the table. Then he semi-sat down on the side of the TV. Inside the TV. “C’mon, everyone knows the ending. It’s like, Darth Vader is Luke’s father. The planet of the apes is just Earth. The dude from Sixth Sense is dead.” He blinked. “Wow, this is weird, what with you seeing dead people.”

“I didn’t know any of these!”

“Well, grow up, Peter Pan.” Suga tapped the bottle. “Or not, because we’re going to play teenager games, like spin the bottle!” He positively—and literally—glowed from excitement.

Daichi couldn’t stay mad at him. Sighing, he gave up, and slumped back into a comfortable position. “All right, all right. But no kissing.”

Suga made a kissy face at this, then giggled. “Nah, I was thinking truth or dare. Come on, don’t give me that look! You may even begin, because you’re younger.”

“And how do you know that?”

Suga shrugged again. “I’ve been dead for a while, and we look about the same age.” Heaving another sigh, Daichi gave up and in. He put his fingers around the part of the bottle where the neck connected with the body and spun. The bottle stopped after a while (“Not so aggressive!” Suga had chided him), shy a centimetre or two from Suga. He cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

This was an easy one. Daichi almost didn’t know anything about Suga. “Truth.” Suga nodded, grinning. “What do you think of pets?”

“Where’s that coming from?” Suga’s grin widened. “Like, I had a _thousand_ possible questions you might ask running through me head, and not a single one aimed at pets.”

Daichi shrugged, eyes fixed on the bottle. “I don’t know. I was just thinking, you know, you seem like a cat person if I ever saw one.”

“Nice, spot on. I’d adopt forty cats if I could.” So there was his answer. “But why not a dog person instead?”

Daichi chuckled, gaze returning to Suga. “You’re like a cat. Impish. Mischievous. You’re doing your own thing, like being the only ghost.” He counted off those points on his fingers.

“I’m taking this as a compliment.” Suga’s grin still didn’t falter. “You’re more like a dog person. You have a mild helper complex and you’re always there for your friends, even if they’re invisible.”

“Am I?” Daichi raised an eyebrow. He was not convinced.

Suga shrugged. “I’d have to observe you a little longer, but from what I’ve seen, you’re a pupper.”

“Don’t make yourself sound like a stalker.”

“All right. I’m more like a reverse-stalker, like a streaker kinda person, anyway.”

Daichi rolled his eyes. “I’m glad I’m never going to see this.” When Suga opened his mouth for a no doubt witty retort, Daichi cleared his throat and pointed at the bottle. “You wanted to play this game, you’re playing it.”

So Suga spun the bottle. This time, it pointed at Daichi. “Truth. Do you have siblings?”

Daichi shook his head. “No. When I was in grade school, I was jealous of all the kids that had older siblings, though. They had someone to play with at home. I always played by myself until I started club activities.”

“Aw, this is kinda sad. I think I’m an only child, too. I don’t remember a deep sibling-like connection.”

Connections? “What do you mean?”

Suga looked up at the ceiling and crossed his arms before answering. “I remember my parents being alive. I just _know_ I had parents, and I must have been on good terms with them. But there’s no such thing for anyone else. Just the two of them.”

Wow. Daichi sure hadn’t expected that. “So you remember more than you did before?”

“A little.” Suga shrugged. “Almost nothing, and mostly hunches. Perhaps more’ll come back to me when we spend time together?”

This could be a way to figure out the reason behind this all. “Let’s try it.” Suga grinned toothily.

Daichi spun the bottle, and it landed on him again. Because he’d had to answer the last question, he had to pick for himself this round. “Dare, for a change of pace.”

Suga’s grin was pure evil. “Perform Robbie William’s _Let Me Entertain You_. With dancing and all that. I can do your make-up.”

Daichi blinked. What the hell had he got himself into now? “Since when can you do make-up?”

“I’m a piñata—full of surprises. And sweets.” His grin only widened. “I’m so glad your biggest concern is the make-up.”

Oh, shit. “Can I at least get myself drunk before I do this?”

“Go ahead.”

Daichi downed a whole six pack.

“I don’t have the make-up, by the way, and I know you don’t have it, either.”

Daichi set the last beer can down. “The only good news so far.” He stood up and stretched. “Can I at least have the song play in the background?”

“You’ll have to sing.”

“I know. But I don’t want to screw this up more than I’m inevitably already going to.”

“Well,” Suga was still grinning, leaning back on his hands and more into the TV, “I’m not stopping you.”

Taking one last deep breath, Daichi searched the internet for the song on his mobile phone and let sweet death embrace him.

As soon as he was done, he brought the remaining two beer cans from his fridge to drown his embarrassment. Settling back down on the butt-shaped depression, that is, his one spot on the couch he always took, Daichi opened one of the cans and drowned it in one long gulp.

“I didn’t know you weren’t tone deaf.” When Daichi fixed Suga with one of his patented glares, Suga grinned cheekily. “You know, if you took singing classes to flesh out what’s already there, you could be a decent musical extra.”

“Well, isn’t that improving my self-confidence?” Suga just stuck his tongue out a little. Daichi rolled his eyes and gripped the bottle to spin it again. “I’m never picking dare again, just so you know.”

“Hey, you did great! I’d watch it again.”

“You were pissing yourself.”

“Yeah,” Suga smiled, “I was close to choking from laughter. Let me tell you, it was awesome, and I’d pay you money for that.”

“You should have.”

Suga shrugged. “Bank account’s probably frozen. If there was anything in there in the first place.”

“You _could_ afford this house.”

“Betcha I just couch-surfed here regularly and was a broke-ass student.”

“Too bad.”

“To elevate your self-perception somewhat, your English accent is actually really good. I didn’t expect that. Like, at all. How come?”

Daichi relaxed into the couch. “I’m in business management. And I had to take a class on international relations. My teacher suggested I take a semester abroad, too, so I went to the United States for six months.”

“Wow!” Suga grinned, this time genuinely excited and happy. It suited him so much better than the previous versions full of plotting and impending disaster. “Tell me more about your studies. Why pick business management?”

Daichi shrugged. “Honest? I didn’t know what else to do. You can basically go into any field, as in business, with it, eventually. There’s always work. And a university close to home offered it, so it was a no-brainer.”

“Aw, are you a mama’s boy?”

Daichi’s cheeks grew hot. He reached for his last beer can. “I’m a country hick and proud of it.”

“That’s exactly what I’d have said in your position.” Suga grinned. “Sadly, I think I’m a city boy. I feel at home with life bustling all around me.”

“Are you from here?”

Suga shrugged. “I don’t know. But everything I see when I go out seems very familiar, except when it’s not? Like, some of the stores are different from how I remember them.” He frowned. “Anyway, if I’m not from here, I probably have lived here for a couple of years.”

“Which would support the theory that you were a student here. What did you study?”

Suga’s shrugging was turning into his movement of the day. “I don’t remember. Probably something cool, like literature.” He grinned.

Daichi raised an eyebrow at that. He couldn’t keep from grinning himself. “How is literature cool?”

“It is! Poetry, for example, is beautiful. All the things you can do with it! It’s such a high form of art for a reason. The rhymes, the syllables, the metaphors, the language itself, the—”

“You’re such a romantic at heart.”

“I know, baby.” Suga wiggled his eyebrows, then broke out in laughter. His eyes flicked to the bottle. “It’s your turn.”

Daichi spun the bottle. It landed on Suga. “Uh, I pick truth.”

“Shoot.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to be sitting in the TV?”

“Am I?” Suga spun around and found that, yes, he was indeed inside the TV. “Dude, I’m like a Rotom.”

“What’s that?”

“A ghost Pokémon that lives inside a TV in a haunted house.”

Daichi sighed. “Why do I even ask…?”

“It’s not uncomfortable, by the way. I didn’t even notice.” Suga giggled and spun the bottle again. It pointed on him again. “Dare!”

“Get out of the TV. It’s long since stopped to freak me out, but I’m starting to feel dizzy instead now.”

“It’s probably all the beer getting to your head.” Still, Suga did as he was told and settled down next to Daichi. “I guess that’s it for today, now that we’re not sitting opposite each other anymore.”

“Thank the maker.”

Suga fixed Daichi with a frown. “Daichi, the alcohol is loosening your tongue. In the bad way.”

“I just didn’t like this game.”

Whistle-sighing, Suga dropped the subject. “At least we learned a lot about each other this way. Me probably more than you,” he touched the back of his neck and looked down at the table, “seeing as I don’t recall a lot.”

“But you did remember a few things. Or had good guesses.” Daichi went for his last beer.

Suga shrugged. “That’s one way to put it. And by the way, don’t drink anymore beer. Drink some water instead. You’re so gonna regret this tomorrow.”

“Yes, mum.” Daichi grinned at him, and Suga smiled back. “Want to tuck me into bed, too?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

 

“I have a proposition to make,” Daichi said just shy of one week later.

Suga looked up from reading something about cornflakes he wouldn’t be able to eat anyway, raised an eyebrow and grinned at him. “That formal?”

“Uh,” Daichi scratched the back of his head, “I just wanted you to know that, you know, you don’t have to stay in the walls all night. You could, uh,” Daichi swallowed, “sleep on the couch instead.”

“Why the change of mind? I thought you were going to throw me out sooner or later.”

“I’m feeling generous?”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Suga said, chuckling. “You’re nervous.”

Daichi sighed. “All right, all right…” He looked down, wiped his hands on his pants, looked back up. “I don’t know how to start.”

“Just do.”

“…I’m not even sure you sleep.”

“I’m not sure myself.” Daichi inclined his head. How could you not know? “It’s like my consciousness fades, but it doesn’t disappear entirely. Like when you’ve just woken up and you’re still drowsy with sleep.” Suga shrugged. “You don’t really process anything but you’re awake all the same. It feels,” he shrugged again, “tingly in my arms.” He grinned sheepishly, almost embarrassedly.

Daichi took a breath. At least they were fighting similar emotions. These talks were just a tad bit too weird for him. “So, would you prefer having something to lie down on? I don’t want you sleepwalking around.” When Suga opened his mouth to probably inform him that sleepwalking and drowsiness were two different things, Daichi said, “I have, uh, a bad conscious if I make you stay in the walls.” Daichi wrung his hands. “What if—what if you end up haunting me, too?”

“I already am, you genius,” Suga said, grinning from cheek to cheek. “And I’m taking you up on your offer. I appreciate it a lot.”

Daichi grinned, too.

* * *

At first, Daichi hadn’t noticed any colours on Suga. He wasn’t exactly white as a sheet but his lightbulb qualities tended to make him seem blurrier and paler than he was. His hair was still light, a faint ash blond; his skin was pale all the same, almost to an unhealthy degree (but he was dead, Daichi reminded himself); his clothes looked washed out. His eyes were a brown so faint they looked like stale caramel.

Except when they didn’t.

Daichi couldn’t recall if this had been the case the whole two months he was living in his own house already, or if this was a recent development. But now that he’d caught sight of it once, it wouldn’t leave his thoughts.

Apparently, Suga’s eyes turned red when he was in a bad mood.

 

Their usual chat after dinner seemed to be cancelled for the fourth time in a row now. Suga just didn’t appear. Daichi peered around the kitchen—or, depending on where he was eating, the living room—trying to catch the slightest of glimpses, but he wasn’t even able to tell if the room temperature had dropped due to Suga’s presence. So Daichi scratched the possibility of Suga simply staying invisible off his list.

Suga was usually so talkative that his new behaviour made several alarms go off in Daichi’s head. And the silence was oppressive. So after swallowing his mouthful, Daichi tried, “Suga? Are you here?”

No answer.

“Or if you’re not, can you still hear me? Because you’ve been missing and, uh…” Daichi stabbed his noodles with his chopsticks. “I’m worried, okay? So please give me a sign you’re still around.”

No answer. But a reaction: A door banged shut suddenly. Daichi jerked away from the noise and almost fell off his chair.

Despite having the jitters, he went for a bold front and rolled his eyes. “Very mature.” He sighed. “Look, I won’t—can’t—force you to if you don’t want to talk to me but I’d appreciate it a lot if you would. Because, honestly, I’m afraid something’s not all right and you should know you can trust me.”

Suga didn’t show himself that day.

 

But the following he did.

He looked distraught. His eyes were cast down and his body seemed to flicker in and out of vision, light a faulty lightbulb about to die. It looked even stranger at the place he had his arms wrapped around his frame because they distorted the room behind them, visible through Suga’s translucence, beyond recognition.

“Hey.” Daichi made an effort to speak softly. He reached out towards Suga but didn’t dare come closer in fear of scaring him off. “You’re back.”

Suga raised his head to nod. His eyes looked normal. “So I am.”

“Where have you been?”

Suga shrugged. “Wandering around. I hoped it would get my mind off… _things_.”

“‘Things’?” Daichi echoed.

Suga nodded again. He approached Daichi, albeit slowly, and sat down across from him. Suga’s eyes sought the table. “Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way.”

Daichi steeled himself, taking a deep breath. “I promise.” Well, he’d try not to break it. Nothing good ever came out of it if someone already made you assure them you wouldn’t freak out.

“So, like… ever since we started talking, I’ve been having headaches. Recently, I’ve even been seeing visions, too.”

“Visions of what?” Daichi took his chance to sit down before his legs turned to jelly from whichever revelation Suga’d throw at him.

Suga shuffled closer until he stood across the table. He melted more than sat down into the chair opposite Daichi, elbows bent and head in his hands. “Me losing my grip. Like, hurling things around. Screaming like a banshee. Making the living trip, and bite them, and shove them, and so on. Scaring people on purpose, for no apparent reason.”

Daichi frowned. “Sorry if you don’t want to hear this, but,” he inhaled, bracing himself, “it sounds like turning into an actual poltergeist.”

Suga’s shoulders started shaking, but instead of crying, he let out a pained laugh. His voice was almost inaudible when he finally spoke. “I’m so frightened that something like this was going to happen to me. Something that—that would make me lose everything I am.” He swallowed.

Daichi mustered all the calm he could in the hope it’d have a positive effect on Suga. He was obviously a nervous wreck. “Have you had any other signs why you think this could be happening?”

“Apart from sometimes losing consciousness?” Suga raised his head and shrugged. “It’s mostly just a hunch. A feeling something’s off.”

Daichi chewed on his bottom lip. Because Suga was good at guessing. “Do you know something that’d work like an antidote of sorts?”

Suga shook his head. “No. I think…” He swallowed and tried again. “I think it means I should finally get my act together and move on.” If it happened at any other time, it might even have been comical, but seeing Suga fall through the table he was putting his weight on just confirmed their worst fears: He was losing his control.

Daichi immediately stood up, chair creaking behind him, and crouched down on one knee. Suga had become tangible again in time to catch himself on the floor. “Everything all right?”

“If you’re asking if I’m hurt: I’m not, so, everything all right. Otherwise, though…” He stood up, head and torso seamlessly going through the table, swaying on his legs. Daichi rose, too. “I didn’t fall through the table on purpose.” Suga looked at his hands, elbows angling somewhere in-between the table’s surface. Daichi didn’t want to voice his own discomfort at the prospect of Suga losing his grip on his ghostliness, so he waited until Suga sigh-whistled and continued speaking. “You know, I think—I’m _convinced_ I need to move on. To an afterlife.” He moved his gaze from his hands to look straight at Daichi.

Who swallowed thickly. He tried to speak but no sound would come out. Here he was, his first—and he hated to admit it, only—friend in this still kind of strange-feeling new city, sticking Daichi in a dilemma. Of course he was concerned about Suga’s safety, his emotions, his thoughts, his excuse for health, but he also didn’t want to lose him.

Why was life such a bitch?

 

Daichi banged his palms on the table. Suga looked up from the mag he was reading, startled, and flickered from view. Before he could wholly disappear, Daichi said, “Wait,” and sat down across from him. “We need to talk.”

Suga closed the magazine—where and why did he get one about farming equipment anyway?—and straightened his back. “All right. About what?”

“About you, me. Us.”

At this wonderful phrasing Suga raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You breaking up with me?”

Daichi gave him a lopsided smile. “For that we’d have to have been together first.” He cleared his throat. “So, no. What I’m trying to say is… well…” He wrung his suddenly sweaty hands. “I don’t want you to move on.”

“Well, that was blunt.” Suga raised both his eyebrows, fingers sliding over his magazine. He hesitated as if waiting for Daichi to elaborate before he spoke again. “You know, I don’t want to move on, either.” He frowned, swallowed. “But this is something where I don’t get to pick what I want more. Because I don’t want to, like, deteriorate. Become an empty echo of who I used to be.” He whistle-sighed. “That is, if I’m not already.”

Daichi frowned, too. “At first there was nothing I’d have wanted more than you leaving for good.”

Suga grinned, though it looked pained. “I noticed.”

“But I’ve grown fond of you over time.” Daichi took a deep breath. For some reason it was making him nervous to admit. “You’re the first real friend I made here in this new city. Hell, you’re the only friend I’ve made here. And I’ve become so accustomed to your presence and even a little to your nature that… frankly speaking, I don’t want you to go.”

Again, Suga whistle-sighed. “If you’re _this_ honest with me, then I need to step up my game.” He looked down as if reading his mag.

“What do you mean?” Daichi leaned forward, head propped on his elbows.

“Do you remember the other day when I fell through the tabletop?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“This wasn’t the first time something like this has happened.” Suga looked back up. “I’ve been having problems controlling my abilities for more or less the past two weeks. And it’s only started up then, so there’s got to be a connection with either all my recent activity now that you’re here or the time I’ve already been around as a ghost.” His hands slid over his magazine again. “I don’t want to go either. I’ve never had anyone to talk to and have fun with, and it made me realise that this life isn’t for me. My life is over, as hard as it is to admit.”

Daichi gulped. This was so not the way he had wanted this conversation to turn out. “But you seem so alive!”

“To you perhaps.” Suga’s gaze dropped. “But no one else notices me beyond the temperature dropping or me pushing over a chair out of frustration. I have virtually no way to interact with other beings. I don’t eat or drink. And sometimes I get so frustrated over it that,” he looked back up, his eyes an eerie red, “I lose control.” His veins stood out on his hands, the magazine crumbling in his suddenly claw-like fingers.

Daichi pushed his chair back a little, ready to make a run for it if push came to shove. Suga was right, of course—his condition was technically a fate worse than death. Here, there was no relief, no release. He was stuck, like he had said it all those nights ago, in limbo. Holding up his hands, Daichi said, “I’m going to help you. Help you find a way a way to move on.”

Suga calmed down.

* * *

Because a quick google search didn’t turn up anything of relevance, Daichi’s second move to solve the mystery concerning Suga’s death was—in his opinion—the obvious one: asking around in the neighbourhood. It was a kill-two-birds-with-one-stone kind of tactic anyway because Daichi had so far blissfully neglected to introduce himself to his unavailable (or, how Suga liked to phrase it, “unappealing”) neighbours.

“Do you remember them?” Daichi asked as they walked up to the house to Daichi’s own’s right. He tried not to notice Suga hovering every second step. This was a bad sign, surely.

Suga shook his head. “Everything that happened before my death is a haze. I know there’s something there but I can only make out vague shapes in my memory.” He crossed his arms. “In this case I know I used to have neighbours but not who exactly they were. For all I know, _you_ could’ve been my neighbour at some point.”

Daichi grimaced. “I can assure you I’ve never been here before I moved here.”

Suga only shrugged in response.

Daichi rang the bell to the Nakamura household and waited. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them again when he found his posture to defensive-looking. His eyes flickered to Suga. “How long have we been waiting—”

“Great. Can’t introduce himself at first and when he finally _does_ he turns out to be a fucking psycho.” The door had opened and a middle-aged man was staring at him. His hair was greying already and he reeked of cigarette smoke.

One of Daichi’s eyes twitched. His smile was so forced it hurt. “A wonderful day to you, too, Mr. Nakamura. My name is Sawamura Daichi and as you have successfully noticed, I live next door to you.”

The man in the door crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, sneering. “Look, kiddo, whatever you want, just get the fuck over with it already. I have no time for your make-believe BS.”

Daichi was so glad Suga—eyes flashing red—stepped on his foot when he opened his mouth the first time. His left eye had developed a permanent twitch by now. Taking a deep breath to calm himself somewhat, he said, “See, I just wanted to know if you were, ah, acquaintances with one of the previous owners of my house.”

The man snorted. “They come and go like the goddamned seasons. I can’t remember a single thing about any of them. Soon as they move here, they’re already out again.” A nasty grin spread over his features. “Can’t wait to see the day you pack your things and be gone for good.” And with that, he slammed the door shut.

“I told you they were unappealing,” Suga said when Daichi gave him one of his practiced looks of tried patience.

“Let’s try across the street.”

A woman rocking a baby in her arms opened the door. Her forehead creased when Daichi asked her about his house’s previous owners.

“There were a couple of families with small children. I had hoped one of them would stay so they could play with little Aiko in a few years here, but,” she shook her head, “no one ever does.”

“Have you ever heard about one of the owners,” Daichi wet his lips, “dying?”

The woman’s eyes widened and she interrupted her rocking which caused the baby to wail. “No. What a terrible thing! Let us pray the house isn’t cursed.”

“Yes, let’s.” Daichi bowed. “Well, thank you for your time.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” the woman answered, sounding uncertain.

“I’ll ask around some more. Perhaps I’ll have more luck elsewhere.” Daichi put on one of his good smiles, and the woman smiled back.

“Good luck.”

“Thank you.” And with that, Daichi und Suga were off again. “You know,” Daichi said as soon as they were out of earshot, “I had thought being a detective would be much easier.”

Suga giggled. “You sure set the bar high.” He grinned at Daichi. “You interviewed a grand total of two people.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, yadda yadda yadda.”

“Aren’t I always?”

Daichi didn’t reward him with an answer, instead trying the house to the left from where he lived. An elderly woman opened the door—score! She might remember something useful.

“Ah, I’m very sorry to say that I, too, have only recently moved here, now that my husband is also retired. We bought this little, cute house to spend our autumn of our lives here.”

“Oh.” Daichi hated it whenever emotion crept into his inflection but he was flat-out disappointed. Good thing he didn’t solved deaths for a living. He’d get nowhere.

A cold hand squeezed his shoulder. “Listen,” Suga whispered in his ear. Daichi hadn’t noticed the old lady had resumed talking.

“—In the archives.”

“Pardon me?”

The woman laughed. “And here I thought _I_ needed hearing aid!” Daichi winced and forced a chuckle. “I said you could try looking for your mysterious death in the newspaper archives. They should have you covered, even if whatever you’re looking for happened back in the 80’s.” When Daichi inclined his head, she added, “The 1880’s!” and broke out again in merry laughter, waving her hand as if to lessen the urge.

While her humour was a subject of debate, her suggestions were noteworthy. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mrs. Kato! Thank you.” He bowed deeply.

“Ah, dear, it’s nothing.” She was still waving her hand. “You should come by for cake and coffee, soon.”

“I will. Thank you. I wish you a nice day.”

“So do I.”

With another bow, Daichi left, Suga on his heels. Finally, he had another angle to tackle this mystery from.

 

Of course Suga had followed Daichi into the local newspaper archives. Of course he had, even though they had agreed he would stay home so he wouldn’t just vanish if anything came up. Daichi shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. Suga was too curious, and like they said, curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, the ghost. Because if Daichi could delay his knowledge about his death—and by extension, his vanishing for good—by even a minute, then it was worth it.

The good thing about the archives was that they existed at all. The bad was that Daichi (nor Suga) didn’t know when exactly Suga had lived and, more importantly, died. The ugly was that because of the bad thing even browsing the obvious homicide and accident sections would take forever. Well, at least they had a name.

Daichi sighed. This was going to be a long weekend.

“Why haven’t you tried this on your own before?” Daichi asked when they were finally left to their own devices, taking the homicide records covering the past decade. He didn’t want Suga to find out he’d been killed.

“There was no reason to.” Suga shrugged, placing the suicide files on the table in front of him. Daichi fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Suga would top him, and act totally nonchalant about it. “I didn’t feel the _need_ to move on. It was just a possibility for me. But now it’s something that’s become inevitable… If I don’t, then I’m going to rot.” His eyes flashed red for a split second, and Daichi swallowed thickly.

“Okay, this makes sense.” Daichi sat down, opening the bound folder. “In case you find out the reason behind your death, gimme a sign before you suddenly disappear forever. Please.”

“I will.” And so they started.

 

Daichi looked up every once in a while to make sure that Suga was still there. He was every time, although his eyes flashed red every now and then, and Suga constantly flickered in and out of view. A shiver ran down Daichi’s spine every time he noticed one of these things occurring.

The hours ticked by and even though it was still early autumn, the sun outside set and Daichi had to turn on the lights. He took the chance to roll his shoulders and stretch. His eyes hurt and he could feel a headache blooming behind his forehead. “I need a break.”

Suga looked up from his files and looked around, blinking, taking in his surroundings for the first time since hours. “Let’s go home then. It’s late and you need to rest.”

“But—”

“We can continue tomorrow.” He whistle-sighed. “I won’t disappear.”

 

The next day they arrived earlier to get more things done hopefully. Suga was working through the suicides while Daichi looked over the homicides again. When the clock struck one in the afternoon, Daichi shoved his folder to the side. Suga looked up at the sudden noise, inclining his head.

“I’m through.”

“And?”

Daichi shook his head. “Nothing so far. I suppose it’s similar on your end…?”

Suga frowned and nodded. “I haven’t disappeared, have I?”

“Not permanently, no.”

Suga’s forced smile mirrored Daichi’s down to the T. “By the way, I’m through, too.”

Daichi released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank God you didn’t kill yourself.”

Now Suga’s smile looked sincere. “I’m relieved, too, you know.”

“I do.”

Putting the folders they had worked on back where they belonged, Daichi pulled out one filled with lethal traffic accidents whereas Suga took the one concerning missing people. And back to work they went.

 

The streetlights had already turned on outside in response to the sun having set when Daichi rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Swallowing, his looked across the table to where Suga was still sitting, head propped on one hand, scanning through myriads of files about missing children, teenagers, adults. When he looked back, the article was still there, dated March 28th, 2007.

_Last night around 11:30 p.m., a university student (Sugawara Koushi, 21) was overrun by a speeding car whilst crossing Park Street. The driver failed to stop after being involved in the accident. Another student found Sugawara shortly after, unconscious and badly injured. He later succumbed to his injuries in the ambulance. Due to a sudden torrent of rain and wind, the police think the driver of the car failed to notice the student and panicked after hitting him. Any witness reports concerning this incident that help in ascertaining the unknown car driver will be rewarded with a sum of ¥5,000._

Daichi swallowed. His heart was racing as was his mind. This was one of those rare “oh, fuck” moments you only experienced a couple of times in your life if you were unlucky enough. So Suga had been dead for almost nine years, just hanging on to a memory, an idea of who he used to be, and the slightest glimmer of hope dwindling to nothing as the days turned to weeks turned to months turned to years. He’d been waiting for almost a decade for his atonement, his chance to move on.

Daichi understood Suga’s joy at him becoming a part of his life as well as the need to finally seek the resolution he’d so long been denied. And he’d help him.

And the critical piece that had still been missing, the one that connected Daichi to all this, fell into place.

He’d been there. He was the witness they never knew about, and the person who never knew he might have witnessed something. The one who ran away, fear in the car would follow him home. Trapped in misery and agony, sick and dizzy, he turned the page to read on.

_Concerning the hit-and-run case involving a 21-year-old student dying from the cause on March 28_ _ th _ _, the police have so far received numerous witness reports of a speeding car, a recent Mitsubishi Outlander model in silver, shortly after 11:30 p.m. Due to bad light and weather, no witness was able to tell the license plate. The police asks anyone knowing someone with a car that matches the above description to call in at the local police station at—_

Daichi chewed on his lower lip, shot Suga a quick look and because the ghost was still immersed in his own research, Daichi dropped his gaze back to the articles in front of him. It was hard to wrap his head around this all, his heart hammering against his chest. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck and he hoped Suga wouldn’t notice the clear signals of uneasiness and stress Daichi kept sending out.

The following report read just as badly. _The mystery driver of a silver Mitsubishi Outlander in the hit-and-run case resulting in a student’s death has been found out thanks to numerous witness reports, according to a police spokesman. For tactical reasons relating to their investigation, no name has been made public. The driver has been remanded in custody and is awaiting their trial._

Daichi’s eyes moved on to the next—and last—article about the incident. _The driver suspected of running over and fatally injuring a student reported about last week has stated his involvement in the accident through his lawyer. In the late hours of March 28_ _th_ _, Yoshida Daisuke, 23, oversaw student Sugawara Koushi, 21, ran him over with his Mitsubishi Outlander, and drove on after causing the accident. Sugawara died on his way to the hospital._

It was the last article about this case. And Daichi realised how he was connected to the case, to Suga’s premature death, his vision going blurry with tears. He wasn’t ready for this. It couldn’t all end just then, just because he knew everything, just because he was holding the last piece in hand. So he waited. He pretended to look, skimming over the remaining files with a lack of interest he hoped didn’t show on his face, and tried to swallow it all.

 

“Find out anything?” Suga asked a few hours later. He closed his files and put them away.

“No.” Daichi stowed away the folder he had been looking through, and quickly turned from Suga for the treck home.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Daichi made it sound final, and Suga took the hint. He didn’t say anything more, and somewhere on the way home he faded into the darkness.

 

Only the next day did Daichi call for Suga, glad for the few hours of sleep that were granted him. His mind had been turning like crazy, and Daichi’s pillow was dirty with dried tears, but at least he had managed something. And he felt better about all this, even though it was still far from indifferent or even good.

“What is it?” Suga appeared out of nothingness, seeming unusually groggy, eyes glowing a faint red.

“We need to talk.”

Suga flashed him a lop-sided grin. It looked disturbing and deranged with his eyes. Daichi gulped. “Don’t always make it sound like you’re breaking up with me.”

“I figured out your death.”

Suga blinked. “You did _what_?” His eyes flashed red now. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Daichi wrung his hands. They were sticky with sweat. “Honest?” He waited for Suga to nod. “I couldn’t bring myself to. I needed a good cry first.”

“Oh shit.”

“Mhm.” Daichi ran a hand through his hair. “That’s how I feel, although I do feel better than I did last night.”

“Are you…” Suga swayed in and out of vision, and he got a grip on himself by sitting down on the nearest chair. “Are you all right?”

Shaking his head, Daichi sat down across from him. “No. You?”

A weak and fake laugh escaped Suga’s lips. “Hell no. I’m so not ready for this.”

“We _could_ delay it further.”

“Yeah, we could, but I’m going crazy just knowing that you hold the key to everything. As if I weren’t going crazy anyway.” Suga’s breathing and voice grew raspy with each new breath he took. “So spill it already.”

Daichi held up his hands defensively, then dropped them back to his thighs, which he gripped rather forcefully. He watched his fingers dent and wrinkle his clothing. The skin underneath hurt a little. “All right, all right.” He had practiced his speech in all the minutes wasted crying instead of sleeping, so at least he came semi-prepared. He knew he was going to wreck this. “I can see and hear you because I tie in with your death.”

Suga crossed his legs. “How did I die?” His eyes were drilling holes into Daichi’s face when he looked up briefly, the red swallowing the hint of brown completely.

“Yesterday morning, I found your death in the accidents folder.”

Suga stood up, arms thrown up, voice going high-pitched in hysteria. “Yesterday _morning_!” He sat back down, his behind half _inside_ the sitting platform. How he was balancing himself, Daichi didn’t want to know. Suga’s condition was only worsening. “Okay.” Suga wiped away the non-existent sweat from his forehead. “Okay. Okay. I thought I’d be ready for this moment but I’m so not ready.”

Daichi’s chair creaked louder than ever when he shifted his weight. He and Suga both winced. “Take your time. I haven’t told you anything important yet.” His eyes dropped back down into his lap.

Suga’s voice cracked. “The juicy bits?”

Daichi sighed, his breath leaving him in spasms. “Please don’t joke about this.”

“I don’t feel much like joking, actually.” Looking up confirmed Suga did a good job of glaring the table down. “I don’t want this to end, but I need it to. This is why I don’t feel ready.”

“Want me to… hold you in your last moments?”

“Please.” Suga slurred through the table, standing in it but somehow making his top half tangible enough for Daichi to wrap his arms around. Suga felt like air in a freezer, cold and hard to grasp, choking when his arms eloped Daichi’s back. “I’ll never be ready for this so just get the hell over with it.”

“All right, so,” Daichi squeezed his eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill, “March 28, 2007, was a stormy and rainy night. There was practically no visibility. I remember it clearly because 18-year-old Sawamura Daichi was out that night to party with his friends. Because school was out forever.” Daichi sniffed. “We somehow got separated early on but I managed to get ahold of them somehow. They told me they were back at the hotel because the weather had turned to hell so I made my way back there, too. Didn’t want to be alone.” He drew in breath sharply through his teeth. He opened his eyes to check that, yes, Suga was still there, but from his transparency Daichi assumed, he was barely holding on. “On the way back, something happened. I felt that tug in my gut before I wanted to cross the street, and I hesitated. And felt it again. Like it didn’t want me to cross. But I did anyway. And when I did I just saw this bright light and screeching tyres and I ran as fast as I could.” Daichi gulped. “Apparently, the driver saw me and swerved and you must have been right down the street, not far from where I was, and the driver, he didn’t see you and hit you and kept driving and—” Daichi sniffed. His nose was running, his throat hurting, his tears spilling and running down his cheeks. He fastened his grip on Suga. He hadn’t vanished yet, and Daichi felt him tremble against him. “Someone found you and called an ambulance. It was too late. You died on the way to the hospital.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I never checked the news. I didn’t hear it crash but I know I was there that night. If I’d listened to that… _pull_ , you’d be alive.”

Suga’s voice was so faint Daichi almost didn’t catch what he said. “Which year is it?”

“2016.” Daichi swallowed. “You’ve been dead for over eight years.”

“Ah.” The whistle-sigh was a mere suggestion, and Daichi’s arms were closing around himself. Warmth filled his body, a perverse antithesis to the cold numbness he was experiencing. He opened his eyes to find himself alone in the room, hugging himself and weeping.

Suga was gone.

* * *

Daichi couldn’t believe it had already been two whole months since he last watched a movie at his place. It wasn’t a sign of grief, no. At least that was what Daichi kept telling himself.

Setting a couple of six packs on the table in front of him, Daichi made himself comfortable between his two new friends. The first friends he’s ever invited in his home.

“Why did you put on that trashy alien bullshit?” from his left.

A terrified gasp from his right. “You take this back this instant!”

A huff from his left. “Like hell I will.”

You made funny friends when you were in business management of a supermarket chain and an angry customer wanted to talk to the manager.

“Now, now, stop fighting, we’re watching the alien movie and that’s it.”

Another huff from his left, and the first arm to reach out for a can of beer. If this was going to go on, Daichi’d need one too. He opened his own can and took a generous gulp. The movie started. It was cartoony and bright and one of the aliens reminded Daichi of… well. He was small, and mischievous.

“That big, buff dude wants to catch the small blue dog?” a new voice chimed in. “He’s you, Daichi.” The laughter that followed was light and radiated with happiness.

Daichi’s eyes widened with shock and he turned in the direction of Suga’s voice.

**Author's Note:**

> hijackedbylou.tumblr.com


End file.
